The Other Side of Summer
by Oo Livia Cullen oO
Summary: Bella lives in Paris with Charlie while her mom lives in Seattle with her new husband and his two sons. In order to bond with her new family, she spends the summer in a villa in the south of France with them. A romance may just be what she needs. BxE. AH.
1. Il est cinq heures, Paris s'éveille

**Disclaimer:**** I'm the master of my fate, the captain of my soul and the owner of my laptop but I don't own **_**Twilight**_**. Don't sue. **

**Summary****: Bella lives in Paris with Charlie while her mom lives in Seattle with her new husband and his two sons. In order to bond with her new family, she spends the summer in a villa in the south of France with them. An unforeseen romance might just be what Bella needs to spice up her summer. **

**Note****: Welcome to my new story. For those of you who read The Beautiful and the Damned, I'm still working on that but this story wouldn't get out of my head. There is a lexicon of all things French in my author's note at the end of this chapter if you're interested. **

**Now for the complicated part, Bella, Esmée and Charlie are French but this story is written in English, so even if I don't indicate so, you should always believe that when my French characters speak to each other, they will speak in French, even if it's written in English. When they speak to Carlisle, Edward and Emmett, you should assume, unless I say otherwise, that they speak in English. The French bits I have added in the story are just for atmosphere purposes.**

**Thank you to BelleDean for betaing!**

**Warning****: This story is rated M. There is underage drinking (for you Americans but not for my European readers) and there will be some sex scenes.**

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><p><strong>The Other Side of Summer<strong>

**1. Il est cinq heures, Paris s'éveille**

~ Bella ~

"Bella, _ma chérie, réveille-toi !_" I heard my dad's voice whisper as he shook me very gently. "Bella, sweetie, wake-up," he repeated, "today's the big day. I'm going out to the bakery to get you some _croissants_, _pains au chocolat_ and even those little _brioches_ you like so much. I'll be back in ten."

Ugh. The big day aka the day I got my _baccalauréat_ results. It was seven in the morning and the results were only going to be posted at eleven but still, my dad woke me up early. I supposed he was more stressed than I was and that's saying something because I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Intellectually, I knew that I would get it. I knew I was a good student and I had a really good feeling after I got out of the exam room. But still, there was always that lingering doubt, the "what ifs": what if the examiner didn't like what I wrote for my philosophy essay? What if I completely missed the point in my French literature analysis? What if my Italian oral was not as good as I thought it was?

Ugh. I officially hated the 4th of July. For my mom, who lived in the United States, this day must have been so amazing but for me, all the way over the Atlantic, it was a disaster in the making. And what if I didn't get it? I would have to repeat my senior year of high school! I wouldn't be able to go to university with the rest of my friends. Ugh.

I reluctantly got out of bed and started my morning routine. I had just finished dressing in jeans and a t-shirt when I heard the key turn in the lock. My dad was back. I walked to the kitchen and I saw him juggling two huge paper bags filled with pastries. I could see that the butter from the baked goods had already seeped into the paper of the bag, making it translucent.

"Dad! You know, we're never going to eat all of that!" He started to take the _croissants_ out of the top of one paper bag and put them on a plate. The _pains au chocolat_ were next, then the _escargots_ and finally the _brioches_.

"They had those little raspberry tartlets that you like, too and I also got some violet _religieuses_," he said as he got to the other bag and put the array of pastries on another plate.

"I'll make the coffee," I said, resigned. Dad had gone overboard with the food once more.

There was a heavy silence while I was making the coffee and my dad started munching on a chocolate _éclair_. After ten minutes, the coffee was done and I poured it into his cup and mine.

"Do you want me to drive you there?" he asked me.

"No, at this time of day, there'll be too much traffic. I'll just take the _métro_, it'll be faster." Mostly, I didn't want dad to drive me in his work car because he would insist on putting on the siren and the flashing lights and I would die of embarrassment. Dad worked at _la Crim',_ which was the criminal department of the Parisian police.

"Are you sure? I could put on the sirens, like when you were little…" his voice went melancholy. "Remember? You used to love that…" Oh my god, was he going to cry?

"Dad, please. It's just an exam. It's not like I'm getting married and moving out."

"Are you going with Alice or is she meeting you there?"

"She's meeting me there." Alice and I were in the same class throughout all of high-school but she didn't live that close to me.

"Eat something," my dad urged and he pushed a _religieuse_ in front of me. I did love those creamy, puffy pastries. And violet was my favorite flavor.

"When's mom getting there?" Mom was French but she lived in the United-States. She and my dad had had a short relationship, which had resulted in me. They had decided to break up and stay friends instead which had worked out quite good until mom had gotten an amazing job offer in Seattle when I was two. She had left me with my dad but she still came to see me one week every month. I used to see a lot less of her when I was younger but now that she's moved up in her firm, she could afford more vacation time.

"Her flight lands at 9:30pm and they're taking a cab. They got the earliest flight in, they're going to be exhausted by the time they get there," my dad answered. "She's bringing her new husband and his two kids. Are you excited for this summer?"

"Yes! I can't wait to see her! And I'm curious to get to know my new step-brothers." Mom had gotten married (for the first time too!) two months ago in complete secret. No one had been invited. I had met her boyfriend Carlisle the last times I had visited her; he was really nice (and really handsome). I had never gotten the chance to meet Carlisle's two sons, the first one had been away at college and the second one had been on some trip.

"Esmée sent me some pictures of the villa they're renting for the summer," dad said, "it looks amazing. The pool is pretty big." Every year, mom rented a villa in Provence and we spent the summer there. This year, it would be the first time that her husband and new step-sons would join us.

"I know. I already chose my room. It's the one that opens up directly in the gardens. I'm calling dibs as soon as we step into the house."

"You haven't changed your mind? You're still staying there until the end of August?" he asked in his dad voice.

"Yes. I can register for university in September, it's no problem, I've already checked with them. Don't worry so much about me, you'll get grey hairs."

Dad harrumphed a bit before taking our cups and putting them in the dishwasher. More than half of the pastries were still laying there on the plates. I guessed it wouldn't be wasted, they would still be good tomorrow and we would be six for breakfast.

Dad got ready to leave for work and I decided to lounge on the couch watching mind numbing TV until it was time to start making my way to the _métro_ station.

"You can me right when you get your results, Bella, okay?" Dad gave his last recommendations. "And I'm cooking a special late dinner for your mom and her guests so don't go celebrating with Alice at Berthillon or Ladurée."

Damn! My plans were foiled! There was nothing I liked better than to go eat an ice-cream at Berthillon on a hot summer day.

I assured him that I wouldn't and he finally left for work. I received numerous text messages from my friends (who, like me, were already awake): some told me that they wouldn't be going to the exam center at eleven and instead would wait for the results to be online before going there and some others told me that they would bring the Champagne bottles, whether to celebrate or drown our sorrows.

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><p>I never thought that seeing my name on a list would make me this happy. I almost had a heart attack when I couldn't find my name on the list until I realized that my name was indeed on one list. The list I never dreamed my name would be: the list the <em>mentions très bien<em>. Alice was there and hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe for a whole minute. She, too, had a _mention (bien)_ and she started to prattle about how the architecture school she applied to wouldn't be able to reject her and how happy she was. After some time, cries of joy began echoing and tears of sadness could be seen on the faces of some of the unlucky students. We found ourselves soaked in Champagne when our friends came to find us. All my friends had gotten their _bac_ too. This was a happy time. I would remember the day I got my _bac_ for the rest of my life: surrounded by all my friends, happy and lighthearted. In September, all that would change, we would go to different universities and I knew that I would lose contact with most of these people hugging and surrounding me. But, for the moment I didn't care, I just wanted to celebrate. This was the beginning of summer after all!

When I got back home, it was well past 10 pm; Dad was in the kitchen cooking, a sight rare enough to be worth mentioning. I would be glad to eat something; I had drunk way too much Champagne on an empty stomach. I felt lightheaded already.

"Bella, tell me you're not drunk," dad said in a stern but amused tone. "Oh God, I can smell the Champagne from here. Did you take a bath in it or did you just drink it?"

"I'm not drunk, I promise. I'm just a little dizzy." I sat on a chair at the kitchen table and dad threw me a bit of the _baguette_ that he was slicing for our guests.

"Eat bread, it'll soak up the alcohol a bit," dad advised and he looked at the clock on the wall. "Esmée should be here in a little while, why don't you set the table."

"What are we eating?" I asked as I went to take out the plates and the cutlery.

"Ham from Prague with pineapples accompanied by rice," dad answered very proudly.

"Are you trying to impress the Americans?" I said while setting the table. I had tried to fold the napkins in a pretty way but it had failed miserably so I had just ended up putting them on the plates.

"I think it's their first time in France, I want them to have a good first impression."

"Finished!" I said happily. "Do you need help with anything?"

"You should go in your room. There might be a surprise waiting to be opened on your bed," dad said with a twinkle in his eye.

I didn't even have time to say 'what?' that I was already running to my room and getting my present. I came back with it in the kitchen and started to tear apart the wrapping paper.

"Dad, oh my God, you shouldn't have!" I exclaimed as I laid my eyes on a brand new MacBook Air. "It's way too expensive!" Dad was a cop; I wasn't sure where he had gotten the money to pay for it.

"Your mom paid for half of it." Ah, so that was how. "It's from both of us. We're so proud of you. Graduating high-school and you got such good grades on your _bac_ as well. You worked so hard this year, you deserve it. Plus, this thing is so light, you can bring it to Provence with you and we can Skype!" he added happily.

I ran to hug him. "Thank you so much, Dad. I love it." He returned the hug warmly before turning back to his ham in the oven.

Since the table was set and dad had the dinner under control, I went in my room and started unboxing my new laptop. My files were in the middle of transferring while I took a shower to wash off the smell and stickiness of alcohol from my body. I dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and after that, I just played around on my new computer. It was so much faster than my old one.

I heard the intercom buzzing and I knew that Mom and my new recomposed family were going to be there in just a minute. We lived on the 3rd floor and there was an elevator. I took a minute to check myself in the mirror; all was where it should be.

I heard my dad opening the door and my mom's excited screams. I ran to the door and I saw my mom and my dad hugging each other. Mom was speaking in rapid French and was all over the place.

"_Maman_ !" I cried out and she came running towards me. She hugged me close, my head nestled in her neck, and I could smell her trademark Chanel 5 perfume.

"_Chérie ! Félicitations ! Je suis si fière de toi ! __Tu m'as tellement manquée ! Je suis tellement contente de te voir !_" she ranted in French so fast that I almost didn't catch all of it.

We hugged and spoke in hushed voices for a minute before dad cleared his throat to remind us that there were other people present. I noticed that Carlisle was there with a huge suitcase in each hand and that two young men were right behind him. I was even more surprised to hear Carlisle speaking in accented French with my dad. Thank God! Dad didn't speak a word of English except for hello and thank you.

"Let me introduce everyone, sweetie," mom said as she took my hand. "Carlisle, this is Charlie Swan, Bella's father," she pointed to dad. "Charlie, this is Carlisle and right behind him, his sons Emmett and Edward."

My dad shook hands with the three men and even managed an 'hi' to Carlisle's sons. Carlisle Cullen's sons were nothing like I would have imagined them to be. The elder one, Emmett was tall and heavily built with such a happy grin on his face that you couldn't tell he had been on a plane for the last ten hours. The younger one, Edward was also tall but lanky; he kept pushing his glasses up on his nose and he seemed so shy; he was the completely opposite of Emmett. They both had dark hair which they obviously hadn't gotten from Carlisle since he was blond like fields of wheat in the summer.

Mom let my hand go as Carlisle, Charlie and she took the suitcases in their bedrooms. I stepped up to meet them. I knew that Americans didn't kiss on the cheek to say hello so I held out my hand for Emmett to shake.

He surprised me with a hug that lifted me off my feet. "Hi, I'm Bella," I said in English.

"_Bonjour_ Bella!" Emmett said when he had put me back on my feet.

"_Tu parles français ?_" I asked with surprise.

"Only _bonjour_ and that _voulez coucher_ stuff," he answered with a cheeky smirk. "This is my brother, Edward!"

I held out my hand to Edward "Hi Edward! Nice to meet you!" I said in English and he shook my hand gently. His hand was very warm and he was looking at me rather intently. I noticed that his eyes were green, a pretty unusual shade of green on top of that. Carlisle's and Emmett's were bright blue so I was guessing that he had inherited them from his late mother.

He answered very quietly a "Hi Bella," before heading in the direction of the guest bedrooms, where Carlisle had gone, almost tripping on the heavy carpet on his way.

I stayed back with Emmett and oh my god was he good-looking. Everything about him was attractive: his short curly hair, his blue eyes, his grin, his cute dimples, his shoulders (so defined and manly and toned), and his muscled body.

"I'm so excited to be in Paris!" Emmett exclaimed suddenly. "You'll be our tour guide for the next three days, right?" His excitement was definitely contagious.

"Yes, of course!" I replied with a smile and a blush. "I don't know how much you'll actually see in three days but it never hurts to try!"

"Edward was going on and on in the plane about visiting as many museums as he could but I don't want to do all of that boring stuff," he smiled.

What? Museums? Boring? I had been planning to take them to Orsay. What _kind_ of person actually _thought_ museums were boring? This was really disappointing.

"I want to go up the Eiffel Tower and on the Champs-Elysées and I want to visit Notre-Dame and all the bars I heard there were in the Latin Quarter," Emmett carried on as he took his suitcase up to the guestroom.

"Sure, we can try to do all that stuff if you want but it's July so it'll be crowded everywhere!" I warned him.

"So, what are the sleeping arrangements?" Emmett asked as he saw that Edward was already unpacking on one of the bed in the guestroom.

"Well," I explained, "my Mom and Carlisle are taking my Dad's room, you two sleep in the guestroom, there're two beds, I sleep in my own room and the couch in the living room transforms into a bed so my Dad will sleep there."

I caught Edward staring at me again and when he finally noticed that I had caught him, his eyes immediately seemed to find the hardwood floors fascinating and his ears were blushing bright red.

"I'll leave you two to unpack. We'll be having dinner soon, my dad cooked. I hope you didn't eat the nasty airplane food."

As I closed the door, I heard Emmett's raucous laugh. "Dude, wipe the drool off your face. We get it, she's pretty."

"Shut up, Emmett." I barely heard Edward's much quieter and mumbled reply.

Emmett thought I was pretty?

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><p>"I have bought a new Bordeaux today, it'll go great with the ham," my dad said in French and I had to translate for Emmett and Edward whom I was sitting in between. "You have to try it," my dad asserted as he started to pour wine in each of our glasses.<p>

As soon as the wine had been poured, Emmett gulped it down, finishing his glass in one sitting.

My dad was staring wide-eyed at Emmett. "This _is_ good wine!" Emmett exclaimed with a giant smile on his face.

"Emmett, this is not the right way to drink wine," Carlisle said with a sigh, "it's not beer."

Emmett had a look on his face that clearly said 'whatever' and my dad politely refilled his wine glass with more Bordeaux before pouring the wine in Edward's glass.

"Oh no!" Edward exclaimed. "I can't have wine, I'm underage," he went on explaining.

"_Bienvenue en France_, Edward !" teased my dad.

"You can drink wine here, Edward," my mom explained. "There is no underage drinking in France. Bella is the same age you are and she's allowed to drink."

"It feels weird," Edward mumbled. "Like I'm doing something illegal."

"Relax, Edward," Emmett said. "It's not a big deal. Drink your wine, enjoy."

"If it would make you more at ease, Edward, I'm giving you permission," Carlisle added gently.

"Just try it," I said as well to encourage him. "The wine really is good."

Edward took a sip of his wine and I saw his face twist up in a grimace. Ah well, wine was an acquired taste.

I turned to Emmett. "So, you're already in college, right?" He nodded. "What are you studying?"

"I'm studying to be an engineer in food-processing," Emmett said much to my surprise. He had seemed too much like a jock to study something so brainy.

"And what exactly is that?" I asked for details.

"You know how you eat a yoghurt or a granola bar or peanut butter?" I didn't eat peanut butter but yes, I saw his point. "Well, some people had to design the chemical formula to mass product those things. You know, determine the level of fluffiness, how it tastes and feels in your mouth and then adjust the formula in function of what people want: softer, stronger, smoother etc…"

It sounded really boring. "It sounds fascinating," I said nonetheless. I didn't want to offend him so soon after our first meeting.

"What about you, Bella?" he asked. "If you're the same age as Edward, you'll enter university this year. What will you be studying?"

"I got accepted into the _Beaux-Arts_," I answered and I saw Edward raising his eyes to me in response as if he actually knew what that had meant. "It's an art school," I explained.

"A very prestigious art school," mom felt obligated to add and I blushed a little. "Bella is an amazing painter. I don't where she gets it."

"So you're into all that artsy stuff Edward loves so much?" Emmett asked and I couldn't help but feel a little offended.

"Yes, I'm into all that stuff. I love art and I love painting and drawing."

"What do you want to do with a degree like that?" Emmett kept on asking. "It's not like you can make a career out of selling paintings."

Okay, now I was really offended. "I don't know yet, maybe I'll do the _Ecole du Louvre_ afterwards to work in a museum as a curator or something."

"Work in a museum for the rest of your life?" Emmett cried out almost in disgust. "I can't think of something more boring to do."

"I'm sure working benched over a desk while trying to determine the right formula for peanut butter is much more exotic and adventurous," I said venomously. "I mean, clearly, you're changing the world one peanut butter jar at the time."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Bella," Emmett started to backtrack and I saw Edward looking oddly pleased.

"In a thousand year, people will forget all about your silly peanut butter formulas! People never forget about art. Art is perennial; art stays with its civilization and carries on into the next. It may be lost but it is never forgotten. When was the last time people went into a laboratory to admire a formula? Try thinking about that the next time you think art is boring!"

After my little soliloquy, I realized that I was really thirsty and I started gulping down my wine, shaking with fury.

"I'm really sorry, Bella," Emmett apologized. "I'm a hard science guy. I don't get all of the Humanities stuff like art, music or literature. I don't understand it and it seems really uninteresting to me. I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm sure you feel the same way about chemical formulas than I do about art. I could write you a symphony about the beauty of chemistry," he finishes with a grin.

I was bit mollified by the wine and the apology and I decided to let it go. "It's okay," I mumbled. Now I felt silly for losing my temper. "It's just, people are always saying that going to art school will lead straight to unemployment and after a while, it starts rubbing the wrong way."

Emmett only nodded at me and then turned to his father to take part in his conversation with Carlisle and my parents. I turned to Edward; he was still eating his ham and his rice. He had been very quiet all evening, not even talking to my mom or Carlisle.

"What about you, Edward?" I asked. "What you going to be studying?"

"I got accepted at the University of Rochester at the Eastman School of Music," he answered in a soft-spoken voice.

"That's nice. What instrument do you play?" I inquired, very curious. Edward seemed to be more on my wavelength than Emmett.

"The piano," he answered, his eyes staring at his plate.

"Edward plays beautifully," commented my mom who had apparently been listening in our conversation. "_Il m'a composé une chanson tu sais, Bella. Il l'a appelée la chanson d'Esmée, c'est magnifique!_" she added in French so that Edward wouldn't understand and be embarrassed.

Edward had somehow understood we were talking about him and he looked panicked. "What did Esmée just said?" he asked me with an edge of dread in his voice.

"She was just telling me that you had written a song for her and that she thought it was really beautiful." I saw his whole face and his ears blush bright red.

"It wasn't that good," he murmured. I didn't know if he was being truthful or modest, my mom did have a tendency to be hyperbolic.

"Is that what you want to do?" I inquired again. "Composition?"

"Yes, it's my major," he answered, not really looking at me.

"Well, if you're interested, there's a music museum in Paris. It's a bit far and I've never been but I'm sure you would find it interesting," I offered.

He didn't answer; he just stared at me for a few seconds before looking at his plate again. I did not dare think that Edward was weird but he was peculiar. Obviously, he wasn't the talkative type and he didn't make an effort to sustain the conversation either. Maybe he was just tired from all the travelling. More than ten hours on a plane would make me grumpy and silent too.

Emmett who had been listening in on our conversation turned to speak to me. "Your English is really good, Bella," he complimented me. "Did you learn it in high-school?"

"Yes. I did a _baccalauréat littéraire_, which means that it put a very strong accent on everything literary: French, history, philosophy and the languages. We had five hours per week and I go and visit my mother often enough so it helps with the accent," I explained. "I try to read a lot in English too and I only watch movies and TV shows in _version originale_."

"My dad speaks really good French," Emmett told me. "He started to learn the day he met Esmée and now look at him, speaking with your dad."

I listened in on Carlisle and my dad's conversation and indeed, Carlisle's French was really good even if it was quite accented. I didn't mind the accent; it was all kinds of cute and sexy. Most people usually understood better than they spoke but that was obviously not the case for Carlisle. "Maybe he can teach my dad English and my dad will teach him some more French,' I joked.

"Maybe you'll teach me some French," Emmett said with a smile. Was he flirting with me? God, I hoped so. Even if was completely disinterested in art, he was very good-looking and very engaging.

"Why not," I flirted back. "But you'll have to be a very disciplined student if you really want to learn," I warned lightly in my best teacher voice.

I heard Edward's fork and knife clatter on his plate when he abruptly stood up. "May I please be excused?" Edward asked very formally. "I'm really tired and I'd like to go to bed."

My mom and Carlisle immediately excused him and he headed to his room, stumbling on the heavy carpet once again.

"Please excuse him," Carlisle said with a sigh, "he's really introverted and he doesn't deal well with meeting new people. It should get better in a few days."

"The only thing he knows how to communicate with is his piano", quipped Emmett with a smile.

"_Quel dommage_," mom said looking right at me. "He's such a handsome young man, isn't he?"

I didn't know why she was telling me this or whether she expected me to agree with her but it was indeed a shame that Edward was so withdrawn. I would have loved for him to tell me more about his music.

After a while and some dessert, the conversation started to dwindle down. Everyone was exhausted and we told each other good night before retiring to our respective rooms.

I changed into my night clothes which only consisted of a big and loose t-shirt and panties before going to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I was nearly done and spitting in the sink when the door opened brusquely, no knock, no nothing.

It was Edward. He obviously didn't expect anyone to be in here because when he saw me, he stepped back so fast his head hit the door behind him with a crack.

"Are you okay?" I asked concerned he might have a bump or worse that he could be bleeding.

"Yes," he groaned. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you'd be in there, I promise." He was trying very hard not to look at me but he was failing completely. I had no bra on and my t-shirt stopped very short on my thighs.

"It's okay," I reassured him. "There's only one bathroom in this apartment, it was bound to happen. Did you need something?"

"I just wanted to wash my face," he said looking down at the tiles on the floor. "It's really hot in my room." He was dressed very conservatively in a t-shirt and some soft looking pants. I had a mind to tell him to remove the pants but feared he might self-combust by blushing.

"Yeah, very few people have AC in France," I explained. "You'll get used to it, I promise. Open a window, don't worry about the mosquitoes, there aren't any." Edward made his way to the sink and I was getting ready to leave when he put his hand on my arm. I felt an electric current run through me. His hand was warm and a bit clammy but strangely, it felt nice.

He removed his hand from my skin only after a few seconds. "Could you give me the Wi-Fi code for your apartment, please?" he asked in a small voice. Had he waited that long to dare venture out of his room and ask me that? Would he have even dared ask someone if he hadn't met me by chance in the bathroom?

"Hum, sure, it's bcswanvoltaire3," I told him. "Do you know how to spell Voltaire?" I wanted to make sure.

"Like the writer right?" he asked for confirmation. Well at least he didn't say like the clothing brand.

"Yes. It's also the name of the street we live on. You know, Boulevard Voltaire," I explained.

A gleam of understanding came into his eyes. "Oh, I get it. Bella and Charlie Swan, boulevard Voltaire, third floor." His cute American accent had spread a curious warmth in my lower belly and had made my heart skip a beat.

"Good night, Edward," I told him.

"Good night, Bella," he repeated in his gentle voice.

I closed the bathroom door and went back to my room. No way would I fall asleep now; I was wide awake and couldn't stop thinking about Edward and his hand. I was such a crazy, hormonal teenager… I took my new computer to bed with me and surfed the web until I could feel my eyes closing on their own.

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><p><strong>AN<strong>**: Comments, questions, concerns? Let me know. Leave me a review if you enjoyed it, it would make my day! **

**Now, for the French lexicon: **

**A **_**religieuse**_**, literally is a nun, but in this context, it's a delicious French pastry: it's made with cream puff (the same dough used in **_**éclairs**_**), filled with pastry cream and glazed with whatever flavor used in the filling. It's delicious. Google it. **

**An **_**escargot**_**, literally is a snail, but it's also a pastry made of croissant dough shaped like a snail, usually with raisins or chocolate chips in it. **

**The **_**baccalauréat**_** is the very important exam at the end of the senior year of high-school in France. You have to have it in order to go to university so it's a pretty big deal. There are three different types of **_**bac**_**: literary, scientific and economic. You choose one according to your strengths and what you want to do later on (it'll be much harder to go to med school with a literary **_**bac**_** than it would be with a scientific one). **


	2. An American in Paris

**Disclaimer:**** I'm the master of my fate, the captain of my soul and the owner of my laptop but I don't own **_**Twilight**_**. Don't sue. **

**Summary****: Bella lives in Paris with Charlie while her mom lives in Seattle with her new husband and his two sons. In order to bond with her new family, she spends the summer in a villa in the south of France with them. An unforeseen romance might just be what Bella needs to spice up her summer. **

**Note****: This chapter is not betaed because I wanted to give it to you quickly. I apologize for any mistake there is. There is a lexicon of all things French in my author's note at the end of this chapter if you're interested. **

**Warning****: This story is rated M. There is underage drinking (for you Americans but not for my European readers) and there will be some sex scenes. **

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**The Other Side of Summer**

**2. An American in Paris**

~ Edward ~

The noises of the street and the light filtering into the room woke me up. From the amount of sun in the room and the sounds of some apparently very angry drivers, I gathered we were already well into the day. The guest room faced onto the street and my god was it noisy. Bella and Charlie's rooms had to overlook the inside courtyard in order for them to be able to sleep. I groped the bedside table to find my glasses and be able to read the time on the alarm clock. Ugh. It was already past one and I felt like I had only slept for fifteen seconds. Despite the window being open, the room felt stifling hot; hadn't French people heard of the AC? It was really quite good and effective.

Emmett was still sleeping soundly but I knew I had to get up in order to accustom my body to the jetlag as soon as possible. It was 4am in Seattle and my body was certainly feeling like it had been woken up in the middle of night. But it was my first day in Paris and half the day had already been wasted away sleeping. There were lots to do today.

On my way to the bathroom (the only one in the whole apartment!), I heard some obnoxious Katy Perry song playing quite loudly and I assumed that Bella was, obviously, awake already. I took a quick shower, relishing in the cold water to wash off all the sweat from the night. I dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and made my way to the living room. I had decided to take my courage in both hands and not act like a moron in front of Bella today.

I was pissed off at myself (and at Emmett but that was another story) for acting this way. I just had the silliest infatuation with Esmée's daughter. When Esmée had moved into our house, she had brought with her all of the pictures of Bella that she possessed (and that was a lot). She had put some of them on display on the shelves of some bookcase and Emmett and I had rushed there to see what her daughter looked like. She looked a lot like Esmée: dark-haired, brown-eyed, medium height and deliciously curvy (rather, it was delicious on Bella).

Emmett, at the time, had commented that he thought Bella had a bad leg/ass/tits ratio. That gibberish basically meant that he thought our new step-sister had too short legs to balance her plump ass and therefore that her breasts (oh so soft and round-looking) were unbalanced with the length of her torso. I thought she looked fine. More than fine actually. She looked _pretty_. And she was French. That had to count for something right? Didn't their women invent the blowjob and showed it the American GIs come to liberate their country?

My brother had rendered his opinion: Bella was the not the kind of girl he was attracted to. He was the math guy; maybe he liked his women in even numbers. Obviously, in lights of the recent events, he was not only a jackass but also a liar: he had spent the whole evening flirting with Bella when he had a very serious and very well-ratioed girlfriend waiting for him in Seattle. I hated that he was so smooth with women, that he was so social and extroverted. I was jealous. I wished I could have spent the night talking to Bella about music and art and other stuff, but instead, I had memorized the china patterns.

I took a deep breath before entering the living room. The music was definitely louder there and my mouth hung open when I saw the spectacle that greeted me: Bella and another girl were dancing in front of the TV, to another Katy Perry song, flapping their arms around like they were trying to take flight. I finally took notice of what was happening on the screen and realized they were playing a dancing video game.

"Hi Edward!" shouted Bella happily on top of the music. "Did you sleep well?"

Was I supposed to be able to answer her coherently when her breasts were bouncing up and down right in front of my face? "Ahem. Yes. Like a rock. The jetlag is pretty bad though," I offered as a conversation starter. Hopefully.

"Yeah," she said panting heavily, "the jetlag is harder when you go plus eight rather than minus eight."

Bella and the other girl continued dancing for a few seconds before they paused the game; the song had come to an end.

"Edward, this is my friend, Alice," Bella introduced us and the girl, Alice, came up to me obviously expecting something, "Alice, this is Edward, my new step-brother."

"Hi, Edward," she said with a heavy French accent, "nice to meet you." Bella's friend's accent was a lot more pronounced than hers was. Bella, like her mother, did have an accent but it was more in the tonic accent of the sentence rather than in the pronouncing of the words themselves. Bella had a French lilt to her English. Alice's English was French in every way.

"Hello," I said while holding out my hand for her to shake, "nice to meet you too." Alice looked at my hand with a perplexed look on her face.

Bella started speaking in very rapid French and Alice giggled. Damn. I really wished I had taken French in high-school. Instead, I had been subjected to four years of Spanish, because I had been told that it would be more useful.

"Sorry," Bella apologized, "it's just weird for Alice that you would expect her to shake your hand. It's more of a grown-up thing to do."

"Sorry," I apologized in turn. I didn't think I was ready for the two (or four!) kisses on the cheek.

"Do you want to play with us?" asked Alice, motioning to the screen.

"No, thank you," I answered quickly. "Are my dad and Esmée there?" I asked Bella.

"No, they went out. I think they went shopping," she replied. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't want to be a bother," I answered immediately.

"Oh, you won't be," Bella said. "There are some pastries on the kitchen table and some leftover ham and rice from last night in the fridge. Eat whatever you want and there's juice and Coke in the fridge too."

I started making my way to the kitchen and when I heard the music start up again, I assumed that Bella and her friend had resumed their dancing. There were numerous pastries on the table; I grabbed and bit into a purple one that looked good.

"Those are my favorite," I heard Bella's voice. She was sitting at the small kitchen table and looking at me.

The only thing I could muster was, "what?"

"The pastry you're eating, it's my favorite," she repeated.

I started to blush. "I'm sorry, were you saving it for later?"

"It wasn't in the icebox," she said with a grin, "so you're forgiven."

I smiled back at her. Did she just make a William Carlos Williams reference? "What's it called?"

"A nun," she grinned. Seeing my confused face, she went on, "That's what it's called here, a _religieuse_ because it kinda looks like one, no?" I didn't see it but whatever.

I continued eating in silence, wolfing down some more pastries. Bella just sat there and kept looking at me. Was she expecting something? Was she expecting me to start talking?

"So," she started. "What are your plans for today?"

"I don't have any," I said. She kept looking at me expectantly. "I was hoping I could just go wander the streets." This wasn't exactly true but I desperately wanted to appear cool and nonchalant. Like I was ready for adventure. Like Indiana Jones.

"Is Emmett going with you?"

"I doubt it. He's still sleeping."

"Do you want me to go with you?" she offered.

"I don't want to bother you, especially if you had other plans with your friend today." I _didn't_ want to bother her and apparently, that need was superior to the need to be in her company.

"Don't worry about it. I couldn't let you go walk around in Paris all on your own! What if you get lost? You don't even speak French and you don't know any of our phone numbers."

"If you're really sure, I'd like your company."

"Let me grab my purse and talk to Alice. Write a note to Emmett and your Dad. I hope you like ice-cream." And with that she left the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, I had just finished writing the note and Bella reappeared, purse in hand and sunglasses on.

"Let's go," she said excitedly. She almost pushed me out of the apartment, locking the door behind us.

I felt a bit ill at ease. I wasn't usually that spontaneous. I had planned to go online and plan carefully how the rest of the afternoon was going to go. "Hum. Where are we going exactly?"

"To the île Saint-Louis," she answered. "They have the best ice-cream maker there. And the sun is out today so we can eat it on the banks of the Seine."

I had looked up Boulevard Voltaire on Google maps last night and I knew we were a long walk away from the Seine. "And how are going to get there?" I inquired.

"We're taking the bus," she said and she started leading me up the street.

"But I don't have bus tickets. And I don't have any Euros either, my dad has those." This was starting very badly.

"Stop worrying so much, Edward," she said softly. "I always have tickets in my wallet, just in case my _Imagine R_ card doesn't work and we can find an ATM on the way if you want to get money."

The rest of the way was made in silence as she led me to a bus stop. There were a few people waiting there as well and Bella started making conversation with an elderly lady sitting on the bench with all her groceries. Did she know her?

The bus came and we found seats next to one another, in silence. I had to make an effort. She was going to think I didn't like her.

"So, do you go there a lot?" I asked and immediately felt embarrassed. This variant of 'do you come here often' was even lamer than the original.

"Oh yes. I love _Berthillon_. My dad used to take me there every Sunday afternoon when I was a kid. Now I come with my friends."

"Are their ice-creams really that good?" I persisted in trying to keep the conversation somewhat afloat.

"You'll see for yourself soon enough. They have lots of different flavors. But there's going to be a huge line. It's the summer and _Berthillon_ is in all the tourist guides."

We got off at the next stop and had to walk a little bit before I saw the river.

"It's right there," she said pointing to a bridge. "We have to cross it."

I took the time to look around for a bit at the crossing lights. The streets were busy with people. I could see merchants with their little stands all over the opposite street.

"Is that Notre-Dame?" I asked once we had crossed. I could see a little bit of a tower.

"Yes. Notre-Dame is really close from where we are. We can go eat our ice-cream there if you want."

I could not believe it. It felt like I had wandered over the rainbow or something. Was I really about to eat an ice-cream on the square of a cathedral that was there long before the United States even existed? It seemed crazy that Bella lived a city that had so much history, so much past in every of its stone.

"That would be great," I agreed.

We crossed the bridge and just like Bella had warned me, the line was huge. She got in line and I went to the ATM around the corner. When I got back, the line had already moved and there were only eight persons ahead of us.

"The line moves pretty quickly. You should decide what flavors you want now," she said pointing to a wooden board. Luckily, the board was both in French and in English.

"What are you taking?" I asked her, curious. You could tell a lot about a person with the kind of ice-cream they chose.

"I don't know. I'm hesitating between raspberry and vanilla, pistachio and vanilla or hazelnut and vanilla. What about you?"

So she was a vanilla kind of girl. I had imagined her tastes to be more eccentric. "I really have no idea. They all look good." They did, there had to be at least sixty different flavors all more tasty than the other. "The lemon looks good. I like chocolate and coffee too."

"Maybe I'll do something crazy and order something completely new. That's the problem with _Berthillon_, you always want to try a new flavor but you end up ordering the same thing over and over because you know just how good it is."

It was our turn soon and Bella did the crazy thing: she ordered the cherry sorbet with the almond milk ice-cream. I played it safe: I had the chocolate ice-cream and lemon sorbet. She had ordered and paid for both of our ice-creams which I felt a bit uncomfortable about.

"We have to walk quickly if we want to get to Notre-Dame before it melts," she laughs and took off toward a small park.

We walked for several minutes, trying not to lick our melting ice-creams to better savor them on the square of Notre-Dame. The talking stuff was getting easier and Bella was smiling a lot, pointing at buildings and giving me little stories about them.

Once we had crossed another bridge, we were there pretty quickly and the cathedral stood there in front of me in all its majestic beauty. There were a lot of people in line to get inside the church and taking pictures.

"It's wonderful isn't it?" Bella was staring at me. I was probably looking like an idiot with my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open.

"Yes. It's hard to believe how long it's been standing there."

"It took three centuries to be built completely," she informed me. "In 1345 to be precise. The style is gothic."

I was still staring when she took my hand and led me to a bench just in front of the cathedral.

"It's too bad I forgot to take my camera this morning," I sighed, licking my ice-cream. It was almost finished and it had been delicious. I would only have the cone left to eat in about two or three licks.

"We can come back," she said. She had already finished hers and was in the process of licking her fingers clean. She was trying to kill me with lust, I was sure of it.

"I think it's really nice that you want to go to art school," I said completely out of the blue.

"Thank you," she said. "Not a lot of people understand that art is a passion for me. Even my dad. He wanted me to be a lawyer, like my mom or a judge or something equally pragmatic like that."

"Esmée was the one to get my dad on my side for music school. I think he wanted both of his sons to go in the science field. Science runs in the Masen-Cullen genes. "

"What happened to your mom?" she asked suddenly.

"She died when I was very young. Emmett was six and I was two. I don't even remember her. Emmett does, somewhat."

"What did she die from?"

"Cancer. It was pretty fast too from what my dad told me. One minute everything was fine and in the next few months, he was widowed with two sons."

"That's sad," she said. I appreciated the fact that she didn't say she was sorry.

"Some days, I'm really grateful I don't remember her. I didn't mourn her like my dad did. It was awful for him for the longest time: he was still grieving but he had to raise two boys on his own and keep his job at the hospital."

"I think you both turned out more than fine," she smiled and I blushed. There was an awkward pause. This was heavy conversation.

"Do you want to go inside the cathedral?" she asked, getting up.

"You mean for my mother?" I questioned. My father was very spiritual, he believed in God and the soul and Heaven. He went to church every Sunday but had never forced Emmett and me to go. I was on the fence. I didn't want to believe in a God that let so much misery spread: a God that had taken the life of my mother so arbitrarily. A God like that certainly wasn't merciful and was not deserving of my worship. Esmée was very French that way and couldn't care less about it. She stayed with me every Sunday morning, baking a pie.

"I meant to see the rose windows from the inside but if you want to light a candle or something for your mom, I think you can do that too."

I got up as well and we went in the line. It was pretty quick too and once inside, my eyes stayed up the whole time. The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. When I got close to the rows and lines of burning candles, Bella took my hand in hers.

"Do you have any coins?" I asked reluctantly. "I only have bills because of the ATM." She rummaged in her purse to find her walled and slipped me two coins, one Euro each.

And even though I hated God, I lit a candle for my mother's memory in the most beautiful church I've ever been in.

"I think your mom would have been happy to be remembered in such a place," Bella said gently as she squeezed my hand. I had the overwhelming urge to hug her close and run my fingers in her hair but I didn't act on it, as per usual.

"It's almost four," she said once we had exited the cathedral. "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. There's so much to do in Paris."

"Would you feel up to a quick tour in the Louvre?" she asked. "It's not my favorite but Orsay will be way too crowded at this hour. If you don't mind skipping the sculptures and focusing only on the paintings, it won't take too long."

"Sure." I would have agreed to anything at this point. "I wanted to go to the Louvre, anyway. I was kind of afraid I would have to go alone because Emmett had no interest in going."

A few stops of _métro_ and we were there. The first thing I noticed is the line to get through security. And after that, there was the line to get the tickets. So far, there had been a lot of waiting in lines today. In a way, I didn't really mind because it gave me an excuse to try and speak to Bella. Try being the operative word. The inversed pyramid was also pretty to look at while waiting.

"Don't speak," Bella said suddenly once we were up to the cashier. I didn't understand a word of what was going on but all I knew was that after a few minutes, she had two tickets in her hand and she hadn't paid for anything.

"What did you do?" I asked curious and a little worried that we were going to get arrested.

"You're eighteen, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "The museums in Paris are free for minors and for students belonging in the European zone. Since you're neither of those, I cheated a little to save you ten Euros. I just told a little story, don't worry."

Since I didn't want to know what "little story" she had told, I remained silent and followed Bella as she guided us through the museum. Bella took me on the short tour of the museum. She completely bypassed all the medieval paintings and went straight to the French paintings. She showed me various paintings by Ingres who obviously had an obsession with painting nude women. There were also paintings about the French revolution and on one the woman on the canvas was also topless. French painters seemed to like their women naked.

We stopped in front of this one. "I can't wait for this part of my classes," she said.

"What part?"

"The nude models class," she said only blushing a little. "I'm not that good at drawing the human body very faithfully."

I was partly sure that she just wanted the occasion to ogle half-naked people posing but maybe that's just what I would have done if our situations were reversed.

The tour lasted a little over an hour with Bella pointing out paintings and explaining stuff to me about it. Apart from the paintings which were very ancient and quite beautiful for some, the museum itself was pretty amazing. Bella had told me that it used to be a palace a long time ago and that was why it was so big. Indeed, it was huge and I reckoned that was why my feet were starting to hurt.

"Do you want to see the sculptures?" she asked. "It's in the basement of the museum in the Egyptian, Roman and Greek wings."

"Do you want to go?" I was not such a big fan of sculptures to be honest, I'd much rather preferred to see paintings but I didn't want to offend Bella.

Bella looked at her watch. "The museum closes in a half an hour. If we hurry, we can see the most famous one: Milo's Venus."

I agreed. It was only one sculpture after all. Bella hurried us down the stairs, and after the first flight we were running down the steps, the other visitors looking at us with stern faces.

I had seen pictures of course and I knew that the Venus was topless. The sculpture in itself was very impressive because it was so tall and even though Venus was topless, her face was the most amazing thing of it all: the details in the stone were astonishing. Of course, her breasts were pretty too: all fleshy and perky.

The sun hadn't even set when we finally got out and the jetlag was catching up to me. "I think we should go home," she said, "I'm sure my mom and Carlisle are back home by now."

#########

When we got back at the apartment, it was about seven pm and Carlisle and Emmett were already in the living room drinking and eating peanuts and pistachios.

"Hey," called my dad from the couch. "Did you have a nice day? What did you do?"

"It was good. We went to get ice-cream and visited Notre-Dame and the Louvre."

Emmett laughed. "Good. For a second, I got jealous that you had left me all alone and had fun without me."

I seethed. "We _had_ fun without you, Emmett. Believe it or not, it's entirely possible."

"What did you guys do?" Bella asked coming out of the kitchen.

"Esmée and I went to the market and walked around a little bit. When we got back and you weren't there, we went to _Paris Plage_ with Emmett," my dad answered.

"I played volley ball with some hot Parisian chicks," Emmett added with a wolfish grin.

"Crossing over the Atlantic so you can go to Paris and play volley ball, what a nice use of your time," I pointed out, vitriolic.

"At least, I had _fun_. Do you even know what that is?" Emmett bit back. "And I saw some half-naked chicks. When was the last time that happened to you apart from your computer screen? Oh right, never!"

"Boys," dad warned.

I didn't want to point out that I had, indeed, seen half-naked women today, on canvas at least. But I would have looked like a tactless jerk in front of Bella.

"Emmett, stop picking on your brother," Esmée said as she appeared with a tray of miniature food in her hands. I knew Esmée liked me better because I was home more often and because I agreed more with her on her bohemian ways. That had the tendency to piss Emmett off. I loved it.

"What are your plans for tomorrow, sweetie?" she then asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. I was secretly hoping that Bella would be my tour guide again.

"I was thinking we could go to the Eiffel Tower tomorrow morning," Bella told me. "You have to see it at least once in your life, I know it's touristy but it's worth the detour."

"That sounds good," Emmett said and I realized with disappointment that she had been talking to the both of us.

"Do you need to go the _Galleries_, _chérie_?" Esmée asked looking at Bella. "The house has a swimming-pool so I hope you have enough bathing suits."

Bella answered a quiet '_oui'_ to her mother. "In the afternoon, we could do another touristy thing and maybe take a tour on the _Bateaux-Mouches_. It's going to be sunny tomorrow. Or we could go visit the _Catacombes_, I never did it but it looks fun."

I had read the entire Paris guide on the plane so I knew what those two things were but I loved seeing the glazed look on my brother's face. The more stupid he appeared to be in front of Bella, the better.

"I think the _Bateaux-Mouches_ are a great idea," my dad commented. "We'll go with you."

"I printed our train tickets," Esmée then informed us."We're leaving at eight am the day after tomorrow, the seventh."

Bella groaned and I understood why. Esmée had insisted that we take the train to Cannes instead of the plane so we could contemplate (her words) the landscape. However, it had considerably lengthened our travel time. It would have taken one hour and a half by plane and instead, it would take us at least five hours by TGV and it was the high speed train. Then, you had to add at least one hour by car to get to the house we had rented in Grasses.

"The housekeeper will meet us there directly," Esmée continued to inform us.

"I can't wait to see Charlotte again!" Bella exclaimed happily.

"Charlotte is pregnant, _chérie_," said Esmée. "I had to hire someone new. Her name is Angela, she's thirty-five and from the region. I think her husband owns a perfume store."

Bella seemed a bit disappointed but I was happy to see that the housekeeper would not be some old lady à la Mrs Doubtfire.

#########

After dinner, Bella reappeared wearing a tight red dress and her purse in hand. I was on the couch in the living room, my laptop on my knees trying to find Bella on Facebook. I closed the screen abruptly when I saw her coming closer to me.

"Are you going out?" Esmée asked.

"Yes," she said putting on her shoes. "Emmett wants to go to the Latin Quarter by night so I'm going with him and some of my friends are meeting us there."

Charlie and Bella started talking back and forth with Esmée cutting in intermittently. I didn't really understand what it was about but I heard Emmett's name being mentioned a lot, especially by Bella. It felt like a weigh had dropped in my stomach.

"Do you want to come with us?" Bella asked me.

"I don't want to interfere with your plans," I replied and I could barely hide the jealousy and bitterness in my voice. I couldn't believe none of them had invited me beforehand.

"There were no plans, Edward. Emmett just asked me to go with him literally two seconds ago."

"It's not really my thing," I countered and I went back to my laptop obviously dismissing her from this conversation.

"Maybe next time," she said and Emmett appeared five seconds after she had called him, reeking of cheap cologne.

"Have fun with your computer, Eddie," Emmett winked before he slammed the door behind him.

I tried to get back to what I was doing before but I couldn't focus. The only thing I was thinking about was that Emmett would probably be dancing with Bella all night long. He would put his hands on her and even kiss her. I hated him!

"I'm going to my room," I said getting up abruptly.

"Edward…" my dad tried to say but I was already gone.

I had thought that the day had went great, that I had gotten closer to Bella, opening up to her and talking all afternoon. I couldn't believe that after all the efforts I had made today that Emmett was still winning in the end. It seemed to me that even though we had changed continents, life was still not being fair.

#########

**A/N****: Comments, questions, concerns? Let me know. Leave me a review if you enjoyed it, it would make my day! Thank you for the people who took the time to review the last time, I really appreciate it. **

**Now, for the French lexicon: **

**Bateaux-Mouches****: they are boats that take you on tours of Paris on the Seine. It's pretty popular with the tourists especially since you usually have a commentary of what you're seeing and the history of it. **

**Catacombes****: it's the 3000-kilometer tunnel network that runs under much of the city of Paris. With public burial pits overflowing in the era of the Revolutionary Terror, the bones of six million people were transferred there. The bones are still there today and you can visit some of the tunnels. **

**Berthillon****: the best ice-cream maker in the whole world in my opinion and I eat a lot of ice-cream. Their particularity is that all their ice-cream is handmade, made with natural flavors and without any preservatives. It's the best. **

**Imagine R****: it's a transport card that you pay monthly or yearly for students. It allows you to go wherever you want in Paris, take the bus, the métro and the RER as many times as you want. It's pretty amazing and cheap if you live in Paris. It gets expensive if you live in the suburbs and have to commute. I live in the suburbs and mine costs about 50 Euros monthly. The further away you live from Paris, the more expensive it gets, usually.**

**Louvre and Orsay****: famous museums in Paris which are always overflowing with people. Orsay used to be a train station a long time ago. **

**The Latin Quarter****: it's a quarter with lots of bars and restaurants. There are a lot of students in this area because a lot of universities are there. The Latin Quarter takes its name because it used to be the quarter in which people who studied Latin hung out back in the day. Nothing to do with Latin as in Latin America but there are a lot of salsa bars there. **

**Paris Plage****: literally the beach of Paris. Every summer, the banks of the Seine transforms into a "beach," there are sand and lounge chairs and activities to do like volley ball or pétanque. **

**Galleries****: les Galleries Lafayettes which is basically the biggest shopping mall in Paris. **

**TGV****: the high speed train which connects a lot of cities together, notably Paris and the south of France in record time. **


End file.
